Shadows of My Former Life
by GoForNikki
Summary: He was bleeding. And alone. And he knew that no one would hear him scream. UPDATED!
1. Nobody Helps Me Out When I Bleed

Chapter One: Nobody Helps Me Out When I Bleed

_I won't deny, I faked it_

_Don't wanna lie, I'm jaded_

_I wanna scream_

_Inside I'm breaking down_

He remembered the cold. It was always cold in mid-December when you lived in Chicago, but now he could feel it seeping into his skin, eating away at him faster than the bullet was. It was the perfect opportunity. The man waited, waited until Carter left the hospital, until he was away from the chaos, until he was where nobody could hear him scream.

The thing he remembered most was declining Weaver's offer of covering Susan's shift. He would have gotten extra pay for it, but at the time he was tired, and he really didn't need the money. In the view of hindsight, he really wished he would have taken the offer. Fate had always been funny to him in that deeply disturbing way. That was what his life was. He had the childhood that every kid wants, the big home, all the toys he could ever play with, and all the reasons for someone to waste their lives away as some trust fund junky. He, however, lacked the thing that he always needed the most: somebody there. He had confided in his older brother, and then his brother died. His parents were cold and distant from each other and distant from everything else. Carter had always been lonely.

This fact, somehow led him here, to this alley way behind some god forsaken building. He was bleeding, but he had no feeling of where. He only had the feeling of the deep loneliness he had felt his entire life. No one was coming for him. Hell, no one was even looking for him. They would, when they realized he didn't show up for work in the morning, but it would be too late by then. He felt himself slipping away and there was no way in hell that he could hold on until morning.

_I've left the stone I was under_

_I'm running home, you won't find her_

_She walks alone_

_All through this broken town_

He wasn't sure exactly how it had all led up to this moment. He knew the man was upset. He had just lost his pregnant wife in a car accident. What Carter didn't know was how much this man blamed him. I guess the gunshot was a pretty good clue. The man's name was Morgan DeWitt. He seemed like a normal man when Carter was working on his wife. I guess all it really takes for someone to snap is the death of someone close to them.

Carter knew this from personal experience. Death seemed to befriend him and all the people around him. His brother, his grandparents, Greene, Romano, Lucy, his son, it seemed to follow him around and attack the people he cared about the most. Of course he knew that he couldn't be responsible for all of these deaths, though he would never completely forgive himself for Lucy. Brain tumors and helicopter crashes were created by powers a lot greater than he himself possessed.

It was an interesting observation that he made early on in life that death comes hand in hand with walking away. It was a point that had yet to be disappointed: people always leave. When his brother died, Carter's mother detached herself from the realm of reality and lived in her own little world. She walked away from Carter and his father. When his grandparents died his father left him too. He just decided that he didn't want anything to do with Carter. When Greene died, Corday left. When Romano died…well Romano left which some people would actually consider a blessing. When Carter's son died, Kem left. When Lucy died, Carter himself left.

There was a saying that Carter remembered about death being harder on those left behind. He definitely had to agree. Death can either be quick or slow, but either way eventually it's over. When you're left behind, however, sometimes you remember it forever. You're always dealing with a mixture of feelings: love, pain, hate, guilt, all emotional baggage that you carry on your back until the day you die. Would he be somebody else's emotional baggage?

_Going the wrong way down a one way street_

_Where the feeling is criminal_

_Nobody helps me out when I bleed_

In the distance Carter could hear the vague siren of an ambulance. He tried to call out, but it was in vain. They couldn't hear him. Carter decided that he wasn't going to wait around for someone to come and rescue him. If no one could get him to a hospital, then he would get to one himself- or die trying. He grabbed onto the brick wall and slowly lifted himself off the ground. Instantly he regretted his decision. All the pain was seeping back into his stomach all at once. Carter clutched his stomach and bent halfway over. He took one shaky step forward and felt all of the pain rushing through out his body. It didn't matter. He kept walking.

Carter knew nobody inside the building could help him. It had been boarded up for years. He finally reached the ten steps to the end of the ally and turned into a darkened street, praying that anything or anyone would pass by just then. He was pretty sure he couldn't go much further. He took a step forward, when suddenly the pain became overwhelming. He slithered against the brick wall to the ground. He couldn't walk all the way to County this way.

Carter glared around him, hoping to see a headlight, or a pay phone, or anything. All he saw was darkness. Nothing was in any focus anymore, but he wasn't sure if it was because it was midnight and pitch black, or if it was his own consciousness starting to slip away from him. He tried to stay awake, knowing that if help came and he wasn't awake, they would never see him in the dark. He finally gave in. Nobody was coming.

_Looking for someone like me_

_Where the feeling is mutual_

_Can anybody see what I see_

_Cause I don't see me_


	2. Could You Be My Reckogning?

Chapter Two: Could You Be My Reckoning?

**3:15 p.m. December 15th**

Abby never suspected today to be different than any other day. She only had twenty minutes left of her shift and then finally she could go home. That was what she thought. Then the EMTs came crashing through the doors with yet another critical patient. "Sorry to waste your time with this one" she vaguely heard somebody say. "He was a DOA." they finished off. Great, Abby thought. She walked over to where the EMTs were standing around the body. "Here I'll transfer him to the…" her voice trailed off as she got a good view of the face lying pale against the white sheets. John Carter.

_I'll blow away these ashes_

_I'll clear his face, to look at it_

_He stole my name, while I wait lost and found_

Abby never heard the choking sob escape her own throat, but it must have been loud because Susan turned to her. "What is it?" she asked concerned. She glared down at the body and dropped the charts she was holding. That drew in a lot of attention. Now everybody was staring, and realizing and crying. Abby closed her eyes in an attempt to block off reality. Carter. John Carter. John Carter, a man who she spent four years as friends with, the man who she spent a year of her life in love with, the man she was still not over. He wasn't moving, he wasn't breathing, he was as the EMTs had called him, dead on arrival.

"Transfer him where?" one of the EMTs asked tearing her out of her thoughts. They were clueless. They had no idea how much of a significant role the man on that gurney played in this hospital. He was the gravitational center of the ER. He was the heart of it. He had been there longer than anyone else and he had always been liked by everybody. "To the morgue" she answered the EMT weakly.

_I found a place, where I'll keep you_

_Cause I won't live through you and beneath you_

_I'll walk away, where these winds won't bring me down_

Abby felt the sudden need to get out of that room, out of the place filled with screaming and death and tears. "Neela" Abby called her fellow med student over. "Could you please escort this b…" Abby choked back a sob. "Could you please escort this body to the morgue?" She didn't even wait for Neela to answer before she ran outside to the ambulance bay. She knew Weaver was going to bitch at her later for leaving in the middle of a shift, but that didn't matter. None of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was that John was gone, and she never even got the chance to say goodbye.

She wondered how long it would take before everyone in the ER knew. Abby couldn't think about that right now. She was too focused on the millions of questions bouncing around in her head. How did this happen? Who would shoot Carter? What was he doing in the middle of the Projects at night? Why hadn't anybody seen him? Why did it take the paramedics until morning to find him? Why were they too late? Why did he leave me? That question soon dominated over all of the other questions. Their relationship had been rocky, if that was even the word that could be used for it. They were friends and then they were more and then it was good for awhile, until her family and her problems and her self pity got in the way.

Abby stopped running. She didn't even know where she had run to. All she saw was a bench and she collapsed onto it and started to sob. It wasn't until several minutes later that she realized that this was the bench that she and Carter used to go to to talk. She laid down on it, putting her face down in the area where he always used to sit, hoping to get a feeling that he was there, a sense, anything. All she felt was the wood pressing against her skin and the wind biting at the back of her neck. There was no presence of Carter left in the world at all.

_Going the wrong way down a one way street_

_Where the feeling is criminal_

_Nobody helps me out when I bleed_

When Abby felt she had enough composure to face the world, she made her way back to the hospital. She lingered in front of the doors afraid of what she might see. She could see people crying and sad. That would be terrible. Of course, she could also see everyone pretending it never happened and paying no mind, which would be worse. She finally took a deep breath and entered through the sliding doors.

It appeared to her that everyone appeared to be trying to get their jobs done, but she could see an occasional tear slide down everybody's face. Weaver looked up and spotted her, but said nothing. There was no lecture about leaving the premises during work hours, there was just a sad smile, a sympathetic nod and then she went on about her business.

Abby was trying to make her feet go into the lounge, but they wouldn't. They couldn't. Instead they were gravitating her toward the elevator. She decided to follow her feet, which turned out to be only following her heart. The elevator traveled below the first level of the hospital, to the underground morgue. There were no bodies being examined, no doctors looming around, Abby was completely alone, which is exactly what she wanted to be.

_Looking for someone like me_

_Where the feeling is mutual_

_Can anybody see what I see?_

_Cause I don't see me_

Abby stopped in front of a gurney and shakily put her hand on the white shroud covering the body laying on it. She removed the shroud quickly, before she could change her mind, and was met with the blue lipped, closed eyed, John Carter. He looked so cold. Is that how he had died? Did the cold get to him, or was it the deep bullet wound lying below his chest? Abby closed her eyes and tried to envision Carter as simply sleeping, and not dead. It almost work for a few seconds, and then she opened her eyes and the reality hit her like a ton of bricks. Carter was dead. He was _dead._

Abby let a single tear snake down her cheek and covered his body back up and slowly walked out of the morgue. She tried to remember the very last time she saw Carter alive but her mind was too worn with grief to remember. She took the elevator ride back to the ER, and finished her quest to the lounge. Though she warned herself against it, the very first thing she noticed when she reached the lounge was Carter's locker. It wasn't even locked. In all his hurry, Carter must not have shut it right.

Abby walked over to it and pulled it open; she was hit with an overwhelming sense of Carter. She took in the half empty bottle of water he would never finish, the long lab coat with the words Carter, John M.D. stitched in cursive on the breast, his stethoscope hung neatly on top of it. She also discovered an envelope full of pictures. There were childhood pictures of Carter, Carter with Dr. Benton and Dr. Greene, and Carol Hathaway and Susan and other doctors that she didn't recognize. She saw pictures taken at social events, and on the very bottom, there was the picture of them, sitting at a table, right before line dancing. She felt her eyes fill up with tears again and quickly put the envelope back. In her hurry she accidentally knocked down a pile of other envelopes.

She picked the other envelopes up and saw that each was addressed to someone different, in Carter's cursive handwriting on the back. The first one stated _to my parents. _The letter addressed to his parents was followed by _to the ER, to Kem, _and then_ to Peter Benton. _On the final envelope, Abby was surprised to see in the cursive lettering, _to Abby. _She took the letter addressed to her, and the one addressed to the ER, and put the rest in her pocket. She ripped her letter open with a force powered by her grief. She started to read it.

_Dear Abby,_

_Somehow I knew that eventually something like this would happen. I just wanted to be prepared for when it did. I send this letter to you to express more than this pen and this paper ever could. You are the only person I've ever deeply understood. I'm not saying you're the only person I've ever loved, because I have loved many people throughout my life time, though they may all not even know it. You and I, however, have something that I could never have with anybody else. In my entire life, Abby, you've been the only person who gets me. _

_You always denied that you could make anybody else feel worthwhile because you didn't feel you made yourself worthwhile. You made my time with you worthwhile, Abby. Though we parted, for more reasons I never believed any of the things I may have said in my anger, nor did I believe that we ever should have ended things the way that we did. When I look at you Abby, all I think about is how badly I hurt you and how badly I got hurt._

_You've always been a part of me and maybe you always will be there, somewhere, under my skin, unwilling to let go. I know this is mostly because I don't want you to let go. I still love you Abby. I'm sorry, I still loved you. It's weird to refer to yourself in the past tense, but I need this to come out and I need you to know this because knowing me, I'm never going to say everything that I'm feeling. Maybe some things will never get said at all._

_If you hear one thing that I'm saying in this letter, hear this. If I left you, then I didn't want to go, and if I couldn't hold on for you, then I'm sorry. I'm sorry because I really wanted us to have a lifetime together. I really wanted us to work things out and be with each other for the rest of our lives. I still have that ring, you know. Who knows, maybe all of these things will still happen for you. I want you to be happy, Abby, and anybody that makes you happy is a good person. I hope you move on well._

_With all my love,_

_John_

_Don't, let it be_

_Save it all, don't waste it on me_

_Cause if I take a chance_

_And if I hurt again_

_And if Iet you in, could you be my reckoning_

_NOTE: The song I used for chapter one and two is Criminal by Alexz Johnson_


	3. Those Angry Cries Pass Quickly By

Chapter Three: Those Angry Cries Pass Quickly By

_Crouching down inside a deep ravine  
those angry cries pass quickly by, he can't be seen  
So many ways spent hiding in so many undone plans  
forgetting what its like to fight when no one understands_

Peter Benton had not thought about Cook County General Hospital in quite some time. And why should he? Life was going good for him now. He had his son Reese to take care of and his wife Cleo. He had a steady job working in a clinic. The place was decent and he didn't have to worry about dying everytime he walked through the front door. Perhaps that was one of the major reasons why he left County. At Cook County General Hospital, doctors were victimized just as much as patients were. Guns made their way into trauma rooms, psych patients stabbed doctors, cars ran right through the walls…the craziness never stops at County.

But not anymore. He was working for someone he could actually respect, and not for the likes of Robert Romano. When Peter heard about his death via helicopter he was genuinely shocked. He was always convinced that Cockroach Romano would outlive them all. It was always the things you'd least expect that happened at County. Peter stopped in his trail of thought. In all his attempts not to do so he found he was thinking about County. Perhaps it was just a random thought, but then again it could always be the letter in his hand that had that same address on it. _Now who could possibly be sending me a letter from County?_ Benton had to wonder. There was only one way to find out.

_Close call there in the shadows  
Theres a fear in the dark  
Theres one out there_

When Peter ripped open the large envelope he found a small card and another envelope. The envelope was simply written with his name in cursive handwriting. Peter picked up the card and almost dropped it as soon as he saw the contents of it.

_Dr. Peter Benton:_

_It brings us great distress to inform you of the passing of our dear son John Truman Carter III. It was told to us that John would want you to be at his funeral which is being held at nine a.m. on Saturday. We do hope that you would come as it has been made clear to us that you have made a huge difference in our son's life and we would hope you would be there when we lay him down to rest._

_John Truman Carter II_

Peter felt confusion take over all of his other emotions. Carter was dead? When did this happen? _How _did this happen? Was it an accident? Was he murdered? Peter closed his eyes and willed himself to focus. He still had yet to open the other letter that we enclosed in the envelope. He looked down at it, down at the simple cursive handwriting. The same cursive handwriting that would be scribbled all over the charts he used to have to sign, as he recalled. He only knew one person who wrote like that. With shaky hands he ripped open the envelope.

_Benton,_

_I have spent half of my life afraid of you and the other half wishing I could be you. You were a great role model despite your sometimes unpleasant nature. Despite your tough guy routine you had my back. And you saved my ass more times then I can count. I respect you more then you will ever know and despite your denial of it, if I was a good doctor, it was because you taught me well. Even when I didn't want to listen, even when I was too busy feeling sorry for myself to learn, even when I hated you for all of the extra shifts, you taught me well._

_When you left I gave you a token and told you to use it any time you wanted to come back. Clearly something has happened to me or else you would not be reading this letter and these words would still be buried under a pile of crap in my locker. Use that token now. Yeah, I know they don't use tokens anymore but you can still come. If I am dead, then I want you to be here._

_I think you might have been my best friend through med school. No matter what I said all I ever wanted was your approval. I hope that in my lifetime that I have achieved this goal. I hope that somehow I have made you proud._

_Your Friend,_

_ Carter_

_All those memories, pain and anger, flood back one by one  
They must be just around the bend, they always come  
At night as I lay sleeping they come to me in herds  
Their lies remain, the dreams the same, its only fleeting words_

For the first time in awhile Peter felt tears well up in his eyes. Peter Benton was not a big crier. He held other people when they cried. His father had always taught him that it was unmanly to cry. He had been taught that crying made you look weak. So he never cried. Not until he thought his son was on the verge of dying. After that, however, not a single tear fell out of his eyes. But now, alone in the privacy of his home, he watched as the water rolled down his cheek and landed on the thin white paper clutched in his hands.

Carter had been like a brother to him. They always were at each others throats. Benton was always treating him like crap and never quite respected him as a doctor. He always thought it would help him learn not to depend on anyone but himself. But Carter had to deal with more than a lot of people. Peter was there with Carter when he was stabbed. He stayed with him until he was forced to leave. He was there when Carter grieved for Lucy. He was even there when Carter was going through a painful addiction. So where was he when he died? Why hadn't he been there to protect him, to help him through it?

_Rising up, the night is done, and now the bright lights come  
Held back in my pitied world where everything's undone  
A cold wind blows right through me, I'm made a hollow shell  
Theres nothing left, just ash remains, enrich the soil, no soul, no soul..._

Carter had been knocking on Heaven's door before, but now he was dead. He was dead and Peter didn't know what to do with that. This wasn't like Romano there was no humor in the fact that Carter was gone. He didn't know whether to feel angry at whoever caused Carter's death or sadness at his loss or guilt that he hadn't been there.

_I'm glad it's you_

Peter shook off the haunting words that had been said to him six years before. What would Carter have said now? How would he feel when he found out that Peter hadn't been there? He certainly was not about to find out. He dropped the envelope numbly on the counter and slowly opened the drawer. There sitting in the same box it was wrapped in, was an old EL Train token. He pocketed the box and took a deep breath. He may not have been there for Carter when he was dying, but he sure as hell was going to be there when he was buried.

He owed him that much.

_Close call there in the shadows  
Theres an end to the dark  
cause theres someone out there  
Someone like me..._

A/N: I don't know what happened I've been so riddled with writers block and then all of a sudden this chapter came to me. I hope to be writing more soon and have a total of eleven chapters vaguely planned out. Let's just hope the WB won't kick in again. The song used in this chapter is Out of the Shadows by Sarah McLachlan


	4. Suitcase of Memories

Chapter Three: Suitcase of Memories

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,  
and think of you  
caught up in circles confusion--  
is nothing new_

The funeral was a week later and there was quite a turnout. Carter's parents were in attendance, along with the other rich people, merely there because they knew of the family's money. Kem was there. Every doctor from County Abby could recognize was there including Corday, Chen, Luka, Susan, Weaver, Neela, Ray, Pratt, Sam, Morris and Gallant. There were paramedics in attendance, probably the ones that didn't get to him on time. Also in attendance were doctors Abby hadn't seen in awhile, Benton and Cleo were there and even Malucci managed to show. There were even a few doctors that Abby herself did not recognize but Carter seemed to have known well. Carter was a well-liked guy and would be missed very much.

The preacher finished his eulogy, using the typical words such as "he was too young" and "it wasn't his time" words that painfully reminded Abby of the horrible way Carter had gone. He was so cold and so pale. There was no way that it was a painless death, and Abby knew it, and it killed her. He had suffered enough throughout his life and she thought it was unfair that he had to of died in the same manner. She glanced over at Carter's parents. They were unbelievable. Carter's mother wasn't even crying. She was just staring blankly ahead of her, and John Carter the second was looking anywhere but at the closed casket his son was laying in.

_Flashback--warm nights--  
almost left behind  
suitcases of memories,  
time after--_

Now was soon to be the worst time of the entire ceremony. They were lowering the casket now. Soon John Carter the third would be buried six feet under, unreachable to the world. The entire hospital staff that had shown up were lining up next to the burial plot as the casket was lowering down, and tossing white roses in with it. They were now shoveling the dirt on top. That was that. Now John Carter was officially dead to the world. Next would come an extremely awkward reception, followed by the reading of the will which would be taking place the next day. Abby had a sneaking suspicion that that was why the Carters truly came. In a matter of spite Carter's grandmother had left a large part of her estate to her grandchild, leaving very little for his parents. Abby just wanted to jump into the whole with Carter and forget the world was in existence.

_sometimes you picture me--  
I'm walking too far ahead  
you're calling to me, I can't hear  
what you've said--_

The number of people who remained at the gravesite dwindled until there was only a handful left. Peter walked to the gravestone and crouched down in front of it. He took in the fresh dirt pile that had just been placed over a six foot whole bearing the late John Carter. He reached into his pocket and softly held the box that had been lying there for quite some time now. Peter felt it was only right to return it to its owner. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you this time around" he whispered softly. He set the box on top of the dirt pile, patted the freshly graved stone and turned and walked away. So many emotions floated to the surface of his being and he started to feel schizophrenic. He wished he could will his mind to stop thinking, but unfortunately his heart had other ideas. He walked over to where Cleo was standing silently waiting for him.

Cleo had known how hard this was for Peter. He would never admit it, but he was hurting. She knew that Carter had held importance in his life and she knew that he had always been like a little brother to him. She also knew that Peter didn't know how to feel right now. She could see the confusion washing through his eyes. She could take in how tired he was by his run down appearance. He had the appearance of a man who had no idea what to do with himself. For knowing all of this, however, Cleo lacked the one point of knowledge that she wished she possessed the most. What to do about it. There was nothing she could say that was going to make this better. So instead she simply offered him a smile and grabbed his hand. Right now all she could do was be there for him, and hope that was enough.

_after my picture fades and darkness has  
turned to gray  
watching through windows--you're wondering  
if I'm OK_

The reception was awkwardly silent. Polite chatter was occurring but it seemed as if people were afraid to speak. It was as if they were afraid that the minute they opened their mouths they would say the wrong thing. Susan had only been to one reception like this one, and that had been for her dear friend Mark Greene. How many other people had to die? How much was enough of a sacrificial spilling for that godforsaken dump of a hospital? Susan felt the need to blame someone. She felt the need to let her anger go somewhere. It seemed only fitting that the blame fall on the place where they had all been hurt so many times.

It was as if the hospital held bad karma. The doctors and nurses were forced to pay the price for others mistakes. So much innocence was lost in that hell hole and it broke Susan's heart. And yet they all stayed. For all those years Mark and Carter and all of the rest of them had stayed because they always thought it would pay off in the end. And look where it got them. Twelve years of slaving in that place and what did it get John Carter? A bullet wound and a nice wooden casket, that's what. So much pain echoed off those walls as if they knew a secret and they tortured the lives of all of them with it. Nobody ever paid the grimness of that hospital any mind. It was never enough of a sacrifice. It was never enough to give your time and your energy and your heart into that place. It would keep going until it got your soul. And once it got that, then it would trap you there until it took your life. The cycle made Susan wonder, how much was enough? When would they be even? When would the score be settled? The question plagued her thoughts for a solid minute until it faded. She wouldn't bet on the question because she knew she wouldn't get an answer.

And when she finally did, she wouldn't be around to collect anyways.

_if you're lost you can look--and you will find me  
time after time   
if you fall I will catch you--I'll be waiting  
time after time_

NOTE: The song used in this chapter is Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper


	5. A Waking Dream of Life and Light

Chapter Five: A Waking Dream of Life and Light

_In visions of the dark night_

_I had dreamed of joy departed_

_But a waking dream of life and light_

_Hath left me broken hearted_

When Abby got home from the reception, it was all she could do not to jump on her bed in a fit of tears. That was all she could do since the day the EMTs had brought Carter in- cry. It didn't help that she had been asked to go to the reading of the will- everybody had. Knowing Carter, he probably either (a) would divide his money evenly amongst loved ones or (b) donate it all to some kind of medical charity. That was the kind of person Carter was. Abby closed her eyes and willed herself to stop thinking about Carter, hoping that maybe it would make her stop crying.

It didn't. She laid there wide awake in her darkened apartment just thinking endless thoughts about him. She was afraid that if she stopped thinking about his face for one second, it would fade from her mind forever. She didn't know what she would do if she couldn't even remember his face. She had to stop thinking this way. She was not going to forget Carter's face. How could she? Everytime she thought about him it was there in the back of her mind, waiting for something to bring it to the surface.

_Ah! what is not a dream by day_

_To him whose eyes are cast_

_On things around him with a ray_

_Turned back upon the past?_

It turned out that all that the lurking image of Carter needed to be brought to the surface was for Abby to fall asleep. It wasn't a deep sleep Abby was in, it couldn't even be registered as a REM cycle, because she could still hear the silence all around her. It was what she saw that changed. The blackness of her eyelids covering her eyes started to fade into the brown hair and brown eyes of John Truman Carter III. It killed her seeing him, moving, smiling, alive, all things that he had not been for the past week. She still couldn't believe it had only been a week.

One week ago Abby had her last conversation without realizing it. It was a Tuesday, and Abby was grouchy because she had to pull a double because Ray hadn't showed up, as usual. Carter had been in her line of fire, unfortunately. He asked for some labs and she bit his head of with something about her not being a nurse anymore and he could get his own damn labs. It never occurred to her that Carter had been pulling a double too- covering for Luka, it never occurred to her that he had been asking for her help because he had twenty other patients to see, it hadn't occurred to her that she would never get the chance to apologize- until now. Now, it hit her like a ton of bricks.

_That holy dream- that holy dream,_

_While all the world were chiding,_

_Hath cheered me as a lovely beam_

_A lonely spirit guiding._

Eventually Abby's trip down memory lane gave way to a restless slumber. Her dream world was starting to kick in, and she was seeing Carter. Did she really expect to see anything else? He was laughing and she was laughing too. They were in a car. Abby recognized this conversation and couldn't help but smile. Abby was making fun of Carter having a perm in high school. How Abby wished they could only go back to that now. She saw more scenes from her past, both painful and happy. Maybe she saw this, because that was what her relationship with Carter was, painful and happy.

Something was happening. Abby's memories were starting to twist into something strange and unfamiliar. She saw a chart that read Katherine DeWitt. She saw a pregnant woman on a gurney, blood coming from every possible wound. She saw Carter working crazily to save her, and then angrily state the time of death. She saw a man- a tall man with blonde hair and dead eyes. He was glaring at Carter as he gave the news about his wife. He was getting angry, very angry.

The next scenes in Abby's dream were anything if not disturbing. She saw an alleyway, she saw a gun, and then she saw blood- an endless amount of blood spilling onto the dark wet concrete of the alley. Somebody was screaming for help. It was a man. He sounded remarkably like Carter. The man with the blood stained coat turned around. It _was _Carter. In an alleyway, bleeding, screaming for help. The very last thing she heard before she forced herself awake was a voice that was barely human chanting the same line over and over again- _Out of Space, Out of time._

_What though that light, thro' storm and night,_

_So trembled from afar-_

_What could there be more purely bright_

_In Truth's day-star?_

What the hell had that been about? They were horrible scenes that Abby herself had never witnessed, and yet they seemed so real- so horribly real. Had that been how Carter had honestly died? A patient wanted revenge for his wife and shot Carter in the middle of an empty alleyway where nobody could hear him scream and he would bleed or freeze to death? Abby knew whatever had happened must have been bad, but she never imagined it could be this horrible. It was just a dream, Abby reminded herself. It wasn't true. Abby, however, couldn't bring herself to say this outloud, because on some level of her mind, she knew it was true.

_NOTE: the words used are from the poem a Dream by Edgar Allen Poe_


	6. The Good Fight

Chapter Six: The Good Fight

NOTE: I have never been to a will reading so I don't know exactly how they work. Sorry if it's inaccurate.

_Consider the odds,  
Consider the obvious.  
The martyr is meaningless,   
The campaign has died._

Luka was convinced that nothing would be quite as awkward as the funeral reception, but as he sat here in the less than comfortable silence with Carter's parents and half of the ER staff gathered around Carter's lawyers, he realized he was wrong. Carter's parents actually seemed more sincerely sad today than the day their son was buried. Luka tried to think that it was the shock wearing off, rather than his sneaking suspicion that they were putting on a show for the lawyers. Luka knew what it was like to lose a son. Perhaps that's why he could relate to Carter when his baby was stillborn. Perhaps that's why he could relate to his parents now.

It didn't register much when it was announced at the ER that Carter was dead. He hadn't had time to realize it. It was when Luka saw him at the open casket that it really hit. Luka still didn't know how he felt about it. The friendship between Luka and Carter had never been concrete. First, Carter was jealous of Luka and Abby, and then Luka was jealous of Carter and Abby. Luka snuck a glance in Abby's direction. She seemed to be very jumpy, as if she had seen a ghost. Luka figured it was private and didn't say anything. It was no secret that Abby still had feelings for Carter. She thought she was hiding it well, but in the ER people talk. It hurt Luka to know how much she must be hurting. He knew what it was like to lose someone you love.

_In the planning stages_

_and the fallen faces  
Are the singular proof_

_that it was ever alive._

"Okay" Luka was thrown off his train of thought when one of the lawyers spoke. "We are all here today for a purpose" The lawyer continued. "the testament of the will of John Carter the Third." He finished. Luka always found it humorous that they said the name like that. As if people didn't know who they were here for. "John Carter the Third has made it clear that his estate is to go to his father John Carter the Second, and his finances donated to Cook County General Hospital in a grant of thirty million dollars. The rest of his finances are to be donated to various medical research projects at the discretion of Dr. Kerry Weaver with whom it says he can trust they will go to the right places." As the lawyer finished his list off Luka stood recovering from the amount of money Carter had given to medicine. He didn't know why he was surprised. Carter devoted his entire life to being a doctor.

For the life of him, Luka could never figure out why Carter stayed at County. People like him are the ones you find on beaches partying with their fake friends talking about whose yacht was bigger than whose. It's not like Luka had ever met anyone like that, but that had always been his assumption of how rich people were. Imagining how shallow and narcissistic they could be helped with the fact that Luka himself had never had much of anything. Growing up in Croatia, Luka's dad worked as a train conductor. Money was always tight. To Luka, the rich man was the evil man. He was the man who could save the poor man if he wanted to, but enjoyed watching him squirm instead.

When Luka met John Carter, he wanted to convince himself that he was exactly the same, just as pompous, just as self absorbed. Dr. Carter proved Luka wrong until the day that he died. He was a doctor when he didn't have to be. He didn't stick his nose up at people for being poor- in fact; he tried with all his might not to let anybody know. What really proved him wrong was Africa. Carter stuck around and helped for no reason other than the fact that he got joy out of other people's joy. Dr. John Carter was a good man, and in Luka's opinion, he didn't deserve to go out the way that he did. The thing that continued to bother Luka was that the world lost a good man, and the man who did this to him was out wandering free somewhere.

_This purchased rebellion_

_has been outbidded,  
Denounced and rescinded_

_and left to die championless._

It all seemed so unjust. Truly good men, men who impacted so many lives, who gave to others without a second thought were so rare. Yet somehow, in all of ten seconds it can end. No second chances, no justice, just a cold body, an awkward funeral, and an even more awkward will reading. Good men deserved better than that. Carter deserved better than that. He deserved justice. He deserved to know somewhere that the man who killed him wasn't living on their happy life. A murderer didn't deserve a happy life. Especially the murderer of a good man.

_Does it comfort you to know_

_you fought the good fight?  
Basking in your victory,  
Hollow and alone_

Luka's gaze shifted to a portrait of John hanging in the foyer of the large mansion they were all gathered in. He seemed so sincerely happy in the picture and it reminded Luka of how that happy energy was going to be missing from the ER. Luka looked away and took a good look around. With the reading over, everyone was just kind of standing around. Nobody knew what they were doing. Everyone was standing around waiting for someone to leave first. Luka got one more gaze at the open space around him and decided to make it easy. He made his way for the door. He couldn't bear to stand in that room for one more second. No one spoke. It seemed like no one was even breathing, so afraid that if they did it would all become so real. Luka hated to think what work would be like.

Once he made it out the front door he broke into a run for his car. He just needed to get away from that house. With any luck he would never have to see it again. It just had such a cold feeling about it. It was so unfeeling, so homeless. Luka had no idea how Carter lived there for so many years. Then Luka suddenly stopped. His train of thought abruptly stopped moving along with his feet. The cold realization that Luka had suddenly made was that when Carter was alive the place probably _had _life to it. Just like all those people who had turned into zombies standing awkwardly in the mansion's foyer once had life to them.

In a way, Carter's death had killed more good people. I guess that murderer could just add them to his list too.

_While you boast your bitter bragging rights_

_to anyone who'll listen.  
While you're left_

_with nothing tangible to gain._

NOTE: the song I used in this chapter was The Good Fight by Dashboard Confessional


End file.
